


Crushing Dominion

by DespairStories



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abduction, BDSM, Bondage, Domination, F/F, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DespairStories/pseuds/DespairStories
Summary: Not all villains are bent on world conquest.  Some beings of great power are more than content to set their sights on smaller things.  For Annette Fantine Dominic, the power of Rhea's bloodline is about to show a much darker side, and end her life as she knows it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Crushing Dominion

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a work of fiction, and should not be construed as anything but. Any and all real life scenes must be safe, sane, and consensual. Fictional depictions of BDSM are *not* good guides for how to play in your own life!

Annette’s footsteps were quick and nervous as she made her way through the bustling streets. With most troops committed to the war front and resources stretched thin, it was unsafe to walk all but the busiest and most well-to-do parts of town. Even this busy marketplace was far enough from the city center to merit caution.

 _But none of the bigger shops_ , she thought, _have the sweets I want to get for Mercie._ The last time they had met, her longtime friend had clearly been suffering and weary from the endless battles. And as the conflict ground on, small moments of joy and comfort were becoming increasingly rare.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she nearly missed the fateful moment. It lasted just a second– the brief, hair-raising chill of an encircling spell. If she had not recently been on the battlefield, she might have dismissed it as just a gust of wind. The young sorceress felt her heart suddenly break out into a gallop, and her vision tunneled and sharpened as she scanned her surroundings. At the same time, she moved to the edge of the street, placing solid stone at her back.

 _W-what was that?_ The first, and perhaps most important step was to identify just what had happened. She swept her arms and legs back and forth, drawing some curious attention from passers-by. As best as she could tell, there was no sign of any damage to her body or attire. An instinctive sigh of relief passed her lips– and then she froze in place, struck by a sudden and dreadful realization.

Annette sighed again, this time feeling the breath catch and quiver in her throat before it escaped silently into the air. She sucked in a deep breath, as though she were going to belt out the clear and piercing notes of a song. Instead, the music withered and died in her throat. No matter how hard she tried, she could not make even the faintest sound. A cold, nervous sweat broke out across her entire body, which was trembling from the effort of trying to speak.

 _S-silence…?!_ As a mage, there were few other curses that held more ominous meaning or obvious danger than Silence. Bereft of access to magic or communication, Annette was now virtually helpless. And while the girl was far more skillful with an axe than most believed, she had brought no weapons on this errand. In ordinary circumstances, her near-peerless magecraft would have been more than enough to keep her safe.

 _But...b-but n-now…_ Her eyes continued to dart back and forth, searching desperately for any sign of her assailant. Annette felt painfully and utterly exposed, the crowds around her serving only to hide her attacker. She swallowed once, twice, trying to ground her racing thoughts as struggled to decide what to do.

 _I...I h-have to get b-back to the keep…_ It was nothing more than a desperate thought, but she latched onto it like a drowning sailor. Keeping her back to one wall, Annette began to creep her way up the street. Her progress was slow and halting, hindered by her awkward sideways shuffling.

Annette would have scowled if fear had not frozen her face into an expression of overwhelming anxiety. The wall offered no defense against a magical opponent, so she quickly peeled away from it in the hopes of moving faster. In her haste, she was shoving aside anyone who stepped into her way, prompting a chorus of indignant complaints and raised voices as she forged ahead.

But the girl was being spun and knocked about as well, her small frame no match for the midday tide of people. Each blow caused her heart to skip a beat, and her vision to gray. Every face around her seemed to be eying her maliciously, every person her mysterious attacker or a conspirator. Despite her best efforts, it was still several minutes before she escaped into an empty alleyway, one that she hazily believed might be a shortcut.

Before she had the meanest amount of time to collect herself, Annette felt a sudden chill against her back. Her panicked mind placed the familiar sensation to a training session many years ago, before the professor had vanished. A demonstration Byleth had conducted at Felix’s behest, to show how quickly a hostage could be taken with deft use of a blade.

* * *

At the time, the experience had been more startling than anything else. The professor had been standing in front of the Blue Lions, her sword loosely held to one side. In the first row stood Prince Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, and Ingrid, their weapons at the ready. Then, before she could even blink, the blue-haired woman was right beside her, the flat of her sword feeling cold where it touched the small of her back.

Annette had looked up at the professor, her expression a mixture of shock and wonder. The woman’s eyes had danced for just a moment with...merriment? Amusement? It was difficult to tell with the taciturn teacher. And then she had been freed.

* * *

She did not even realize she had frozen until a slender arm snaked around her waist and pushed her forwards. For a moment, she unconsciously resisted, her feet all but rooted in place by shock. The next second, the dull cold mounted into a sharp prick of pain through the back of her dress, and Annette found herself almost falling forwards to get away from the knife.

The grip around her wasted no time, both arresting her fall and compelling her forwards with irresistible force. Annette was still reeling from the sudden ambush, and it took several steps before she realized that she had not even seen her attacker. The moment she tried to turn her head, she felt a quick sting against the back of her neck. The message was all too clear; eyes forward, and nothing but.

The world jumped from moving at lightning speed to glacial slowness with every step. Her mind was thoroughly rattled, filled only with a sense of overwhelming terror. All she knew for certain was that she had been captured by someone far more skilled and malevolent than an everyday brigand or ne’er-do-well. Her chest clutched in panic, every breath a hoarse wheeze.

The emotional torment was amplified by her continuing inability to utter the barest sound. Unable to escape in a scream or cry, the fear swirled maddeningly inside her breast, growing and growing to obliterate any semblance of rational thought. The streets and corners flashed by, but she was scarcely taking them in. In the space of what could have been seconds or hours, she completely lost her bearings, and the vaguely-familiar city became an impossible labyrinth.

A heavy oak door suddenly loomed large in her vision, yawning open to reveal a dim entranceway that faded immediately into darkness. The afternoon sunlight seemed to die the moment it touched the threshold, and Annette recoiled from the sight. The weapon behind her followed precisely, giving her just enough room to stumble, and not an inch more. Her backpedaling slowed, then ceased as the dagger cruelly brought her back to earth.

Annette had scarcely come to a halt when she found herself flying forwards, tumbling into the darkened room after a firm push caught her between the shoulder blades. She tried to scream, to yelp, her lungs quickly sucking in air and then– nothing. In total silence, the mage crumpled to the dusty floor, where she lay stunned.

She heard the door swing shut, and the heavy clank of an iron bolt slamming home. Then, a hand closed about her shoulder with a viselike grip, followed moments later by an all-enveloping flash of violet light. Annette felt the world around her warp and stretch, an intensely nauseating sensation that seemed distantly familiar.

 _Tel...teleportation magic._ While she was unable to use spatial magic herself, she was familiar with spells such as Warp and Rescue. Although she intensely disliked the disorienting experience, such magic had undeniable use on the battlefield.

 _But...it’s never lasted this l-long before. How far am I being taken?_ The forlorn thought was hardly finished before the light died away, leaving the girl in a darkness virtually indistinguishable from earlier. Unlike the city she had been whisked away from, Annette found her new surroundings were eerily and ominously silent, with none of the traces of life that she had come to take for granted.

An icy draft of wind clawed at her out of nowhere, slicing easily through her outfit. Annette shuddered, as much out of surprise as out of displeasure. Though not especially thick, her dress had been designed in the Faerghus style, and should have been more than capable of warding off most chills. Before she could ponder the matter further, a torch came to life with a flash of cold light.

Through the painful starbursts clouding her vision, Annette could make out a familiar shade of greenish hair. Shock, relief, apprehension, and doubt swelled within her, and she scarcely noticed her voice was back before she stammered out the _word_.

“P...p-professor…?!” For a single, impossible second, Annette let herself believe that her cherished mentor had returned. But as with any misplaced hope, she felt her spirits come crashing down as her vision began to clear, and she saw her captor in her entirety.

Although the green hair indeed resembled that of the Professor, it was far more reminiscent of Archbishop Rhea’s. It flowed down and around a face that was aesthetically immaculate, but utterly bereft of any sign of compassion or warmth. The visage that looked back at her was possessive. Controlling. Amused.

It was an image born of a nightmare, from the depths of a twisted mirror. And it was staring at her through the unmistakable iron bars of a prison cell.

The other woman’s lips curled into a cruel, faint smile. Her cold gaze struck a deep fear into Annette’s heart, compounded by its eerie familiarity. That fear began to grow, but it was accompanied by an surge of defiance and anger.

“Who are you?!” Annette screamed, lashing out from her prone position with one arm. The room flared with the ethereal white light of a magical sigil, followed by a stark blue glare. The blade of wind made a shrieking sound as it filtered between the prison bars, bending them several inches outwards. While her assailant did not so much as flinch, Annette still loosed another burst of magic as she scrabbled to her feet.

The second spell shattered the cell, filling the room with deadly iron shrapnel. Several of the metal rods were sheared in half, while others were ripped from the masonry in a hail of powdered mortar and stone. Annette followed the wave of destruction, with no objective other than to get out of her prison.

Amidst the murk, she could see the hazy outline of an open door from one corner of the room. For the third time, she called upon the wind, clearing the way to the door of rubble and dust. She raced into the light, scarcely behind her own spell as she made her escape. Annette dimly registered an iron-bound door as it flashed by in her peripheral vision, and her next steps struck the packed dirt of an open courtyard.

Around her, she could see nothing other than the foreboding gray of castle walls. And in every direction, she saw an endless number of black forms, sharpening with each second into the outlines of soldiers and guards. Annette felt her heart sink into her shoes as her vision fully adjusted to the overcast light.

The sound of leather on stone behind her prompted Annette to whirl on the spot, forming another magical circle between her and the implacable figure of her kidnapper. Power flowed into the construct, and the Cutting Gale raced towards the strange woman like an avenging scythe.

Her opponent’s movements were elegant, precise, and… _casual._ With no more care than one would take climbing stairs, the woman neatly ducked beneath Annette’s attack, her blowing hair the only sign that she had dodged at all. A moment later, even that had returned to normal, as did her horribly regular footsteps.

“W...w-what?” Annette hated the uncertain, quavering stammer that had crept into her voice. She took one step back, and then another, her mind and body at war over each move. At a primal level, every muscle in her body screamed for her to turn and dash away. _But...the moment I turn around...she’ll...she’ll…_ The thought seemed oddly distant and hollow, even within her own mind.

A barrage of shooting stars spiraled across the courtyard; first four, then eight, and then a continuous cascade of dancing lights that seemed impossible to avoid. Through the sweat pouring down her brow, Annette could see a flash of green weaving through her attacks, somehow slipping through momentary gaps in the magic that were gone as suddenly as they had appeared.

Her breath was ragged, and she stumbled every few seconds despite the smoothness of the ground. Annette’s thoughts were simultaneously racing and crawling, piling up on one another and forming a bewildering cacophony of emotions. It took all of her remaining willpower to spare her surroundings even a moment’s notice, and she did not even try to count the soldiers closing in from all directions.

 _One...o-one m-more…_ The magical spark inside of her was flickering, telling her in no uncertain terms that she had exhausted her reserves. _I...I h-have one...last...try…!_ Her vision went gray, and her ears filled with a toneless roar as she poured every last scrap of energy into her prized Excalibur. Dust and bodies flew into the air, borne aloft by a fearsome vortex that writhed and lurched back and forth.

The spell struck a translucent hemisphere of Barrier magic, and abruptly faded into nothingness. Annette dropped to her knees, spent beyond her limits.

“...n...n-no…” The words were almost inaudible, and they fell to the ground without acknowledgement. She could vaguely see the tips of leather boots just in front of her. “...g-goddess… _please_...”

Her eyes widened. A surge of power rushed through her body, welling up from her Crest of Dominic. Gifted one last, impossible chance, Annette began to cast Excalibur again, only to feel a cold hand close around her own and snuff out the spell without mercy.

She paled. _The...t-the resistance t-that would...that w-would take...i-is…! She’s just been t-toying with me this whole time…?_

“The goddess cannot save you.” The words filled the air with malice, and Annette could feel the deep cold of despair seeping through her body. “I am Lady Adriane. You had best address your prayers to me.”

* * *

Up close, Annette could see that the soldiers under Adriane’s command were not flesh and blood, but gray-skinned phantoms. She had seen them once before, in the Holy Mausoleum beneath the monastery. Although the resemblance was there, the apparitions around her seemed even hazier, their features shifting and indistinct. Their strength, however, was anything but.

Annette was forced forwards by two guards, their spectral hands clamped around her upper arms. Even if she had been in full fighting form, she had no leverage to struggle. Drained by her earlier spellcasting, she was no challenge at all for her captors.

Her neck tingled unpleasantly. Adriane was following some distance behind, and the mage was certain that she was being appraised from head to toe. After her earlier pronouncement, Adriane had not said a word; it was clear that she was able to control the phantoms without speech. As if to demonstrate this fact, Annette heard two sharp footsteps repeated in unison all around her.

When she looked up, she could see that every guard in the vicinity was looking directly at her– or at least, facing in her general direction. Without distinct eyes, it was difficult to be certain. Still, their absolute coordination made it beyond question that Adriane could bend the entire force to her will with just a thought.

 _H-how c-can I escape from...f-from an enemy like this?_ Even her mental voice was beginning to crack, her earlier combat focus replaced with the dull fog of resignation. It was clear that she was hopelessly outmatched by Adriane in every sense, and she was also surrounded by a veritable army.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, closing her eyes for a moment. And despite the terrible visions that swam in the resulting darkness, Annette still managed to draw herself together. She stood a little straighter, and her eyes saw a little more clearly. _B-but...that’s no e-excuse to give up…!_

The sound of laughter brought an abrupt end to that line of thought. Though she had to fight to even look over one shoulder, Annette caught Adriane’s amused expression out of the corner of her eye. The other woman was staring at her with a sickening mixture of enjoyment and excitement, a combination that made Annette’s skin crawl in revulsion.

“That _spark_ in your eyes...it is truly magnificent.” The mockery beneath those words was plainly apparent, and Annette’s visible defiance only served to further fuel Adriane’s merriment. “Despite it all, you are not the type to give up. And yet…”

The little procession had reached another doorway, this one opening into some large interior space. Momentarily distracted by the sight, Annette failed to notice that Adriane had slipped up to her until a revoltingly cold breath brushed against her ear.

“...everyone has a limit. Shall we find yours?” The close, intimate whisper felt beyond violating, and Annette felt her knees go weak. Even Adriane’s voice sounded like an unholy mixture between the Professor and Archbishop Rhea, and the result was decidedly disorienting.

“Understand, Annette.” The mage could feel a lithe, powerful arm snake about her, replacing the phantom guards' grips with something far worse. “I mean to _own_ you. And I do not intend to let you know the simple release of breaking. Not when that defiance…” she paused, running a thumb beneath Annette’s quivering chin. “...makes for such a fine, fine trophy.”

Even without Silence, Annette found that words utterly failed her. She tried to swallow, to free her voice, but the fear bubbling up inside of her was choking her mercilessly. She had never, ever felt so utterly _humiliated_ in her life– _...b-but what am I t-to do?_ Frustration and terror grappled with one another inside her mind, the struggle playing out clearly in her suddenly-watering eyes.

Despite her best efforts to hide her budding tears, Annette felt several droplets betray her and streak down her upturned face. The cold air rushing out from inside the castle served only to highlight their trails, and Annette’s attention was drawn in horror to a single teardrop that was running directly towards Adriane’s finger.

“...ah, what is this?” Annette flinched, then stiffened, feeling her body unintentionally pressing into her captor’s embrace. She was transfixed by shame, and she found she could only shudder as Adriane drew her hand away, holding up a glistening patch before both women’s gazes. Annette closed her eyes, trying to shrink down as small as possible without moving backwards.

“Your tears are understandable, but premature. After all, we have only _barely_ begun.” The subtle emphasis was so slight that Annette briefly hoped she had hallucinated it. It was a farcical notion; instinctively, Annette knew that Adriane would never pass up an opportunity to turn the screws ever tighter.

“Your body betrays your thoughts, little Annette.” The words were accompanied by an unpleasant sensation at her waist as Adriane closed one arm around her, bringing the two even closer together. Although the gesture was ostensibly protective and nurturing, its effect was completely the opposite. Rather than being comforted, Annette found herself pushed to step into the darkness ahead of her with no avenue for escape.

By the time her eyes adjusted to torchlight, the guards had already shut the doors behind them. Sunlight once again vanished from Annette’s world, and she could only wonder at how she had taken it for granted for so long. The large room she now stood in had no windows or doors, save the entrance they had just come through.

Annette felt her heartbeat stutter uncertainly as her eyes swept the foreboding space. _It’s...it’s e-empty…?_ The sheer lack of anything filled her with dread, as she found herself hopelessly trying to guess why she was now here.

“Go on, and stand in the middle of this chamber.” The order was soft; the voice, warm and friendly. But Annette’s blood turned to ice, and her limbs froze in place. Again, she found herself leaning into Adriane for just a moment, before she recoiled and stumbled forwards.

She clutched her arms close to her chest, shuffling sideways towards the designated spot. At all times, she tried to keep one eye on Adriane, scanning the woman’s body for the slightest sign of an attack or some other torment. Inwardly, her mind was screaming at her to resist, to fight back, _anything_ but to obey. _But...I’ve...n-never encountered...a-anyone like this before…_

“At some level, you still have yet to accept the true nature of your predicament.” Adriane’s tone sounded almost apologetic, full of pity and sympathy. “Now, I will give you the opportunity to learn...and _submit,_ first-hand.”

A blood-red magical circle burned dully on the floor, crimson light flickering up from the gray stone like stirred embers. The shape was complete before Annette even had a chance to react, and the mage found herself swaying on the spot as a nauseating, dizzying sensation overtook her consciousness.

A knife flashed in Adriane’s hand. With one quick motion, the woman drew a droplet of greenish blood from one finger, and flicked the liquid into the circle. For a moment, the light rippled and bent, changing briefly in color to match the offering. Annette’s vision was now beginning to swim, but she could see Adriane holding a chalice to the small wound, catching several more drops of blood inside.

“W...w-what?” Her voice shook and cracked in spite of her best efforts, filled with both fatigue and fear. Her limbs were starting to tingle unpleasantly, and Annette could swear that she could see a faint light flowing from her body into the floor. “What are you…?”

“This spell will drain you of your magic...and then, your vitality.” Adriane tilted her head, her lips pursed in mock concern. “Ah, but you’ve already used most of your magic, haven’t you…?”

She wanted nothing more than to prove her captor wrong. But despite her earnest prayers, she was unable to dredge up even a spark of magical power. As promised, her body was also beginning to succumb; Annette’s hearing filled with a toneless ringing, and her vision began to fade. Moments later, she collapsed to her hands and knees, drawing ragged breaths as she struggled to stay off the ground.

Dimly, she could see Adriane making some kind of motion, spawning a sigil that rotated and glowed before her. The magical circle dimmed slightly, and Annette felt the suffocating pressure that had enveloped her ease. With all the energy she could muster, she raised her head to look at her tormentor, her expression flickering between anger, denial, and reluctant pleading.

“I am not without mercy. If you can leave the circle, the spell will terminate.” Adriane paused, allowing Annette’s tired mind time to process the challenge. “I have also slowed the spell. You will have several hours to escape.” White light flared around both women, and Annette felt a sudden surge of strength flow into her aching body.

She did not pause to ponder why Adriane had healed her. The only thought in her mind was escape, and Annette charged forwards– only to bounce off a wall of hard light with a cry of surprise. She stared at the barrier, which had formed the moment she neared the circle’s edge. Stepping to the left or right revealed no way through; with no magic left to her, Annette threw her whole weight into a desperate tackle.

Her prison refused to give, and she slid to the ground just inches away from freedom. She could feel her shoulder tingling unpleasantly from the impact. “You...you t-tricked me...there’s no way out, is there?”

“Now, now. You did not even give me a chance to explain.” Adriane dangled the chalice before Annette’s eyes, tilting the brim towards the captive mage. “The circle is bound to your blood. It will not release anyone who does not bear some of my power. If you were to drink from this vessel, you would be able to pass.” So saying, Adriane poured some water from a flask into the cup, swirling it in one hand. The mixture inside became a cloudy mint in color, still circling slowly from the earlier agitation.

“...what’s the trick?” Annette’s voice was accusatory, and she piled as much venom into the question as she could. Still, it was impossible to hide the brittleness of her words, or the desperation in her face. _I k-know there’s m-magic afoot here...but do I really have a choice?_.

Adriane tipped the vessel towards Annette, and ran her free hand above the rim. Annette could see a faint light shimmering just beneath the dull liquid’s surface, which slowly solidified into something at once familiar and alien.

“The...Crest of Seiros? But…?” Annette’s eyes narrowed, her mind racing through the possibilities. _No… It’s not quite right._ Many hours spent with Professor Hanneman guided her gaze as she picked out the subtle differences between the designs. “No… It’s related, but…” She trailed off, looking up at Adriane with renewed fear and awe in her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Your Archbishop has done much to erase me from the Church canon.” Adriane’s answer was patient, without a trace of concern or bitterness. “For now, all you need know is that I am Rhea’s kin. Through the ages, I have been more content to stay in the shadows, and…” she paused, looking at Annette with a gleam in her eye, “...enjoy littler things instead.”

Annette flinched at the implication, but she continued to rack her thoughts for an answer. “A Crest in the blood…” she murmured under her breath, knowing there was more to the problem. _So s-she has a Crest...but what does that mean?_

“I did not realize knowledge of holy blood was so uncommon in this age.” Though there was a note of surprise in Adriane’s tone, the woman seemed unperturbed. “Perhaps Rhea has used her blood far less as of late. Holy blood,” she continued, seeing Annette’s dawning comprehension and horror, “can confer longer life and health on humankind. Those benefits come with a cost, though…”

There was a soft ringing sound as the chalice touched stone. Adriane left the vessel just inside the circle’s boundary, and Annette felt a wave of nausea and revulsion rise up in her body. The idea of drinking this blood potion was now far less academic, and far too real. But as repulsive as the idea was, her options were rapidly running out.

The minutes crept by in silence. Annette began to shiver as cold, dull exhaustion crept through her entire being. Again and again, she had to tear her gaze away from the potion, trying to look somewhere, _anywhere_ , but failing to resist for long. Adriane seemed content to watch, her expression of amused interest never changing.

 _I… I can’t die here. Whatever h-happens...it h-has to b-be better t-than…_ Her thoughts were hazy, sluggishly churning towards one unavoidable conclusion. _B...b-but…! The costs...what are they…?_ Annette knew better than to ask, though her mind was filling the unknown with ever-darker horrors.

Adriane could see the moment that the young mage’s resolve broke. Annette’s shoulders abruptly slumped, her head falling forward in defeat. Her disheveled hair hid her face from Adriane’s sight, but there was no concealing the brief sound of a stifled sob. Slowly, hesitantly, Annette took the chalice in her hand, and took the tiniest sip from the brew.

“A wise choice, Annette.” She nearly missed Adriane’s taunt, her throat clenching hard as if to force the liquid back out. Adriane smiled, lowering herself until she was at eye level with the gagging, coughing Annette. “Now, when you are able, I order you to _crawl_ out of there.” The words seemed to resonate with a subtle power, echoing faintly in the quiet space.

Annette’s eyes blazed with fury, lit both by a rekindled sense of defiance– and a peculiar trickle of energy that had begun to wend through her veins. “Never!” she hissed, pressing one hand to the floor for support. A few seconds later, Annette forced herself to her feet, reaching for the barrier at the same time.

The air seemed to thicken before her fingertips, forming a shimmering wall of light. This time, Annette found she was able to press just past the boundary, her hand passing through before her wrist became stuck in midair.

“Be cautious, little Annette.” Adriane pointed to the floor, where the nearly-full chalice rocked precariously by Annette’s feet. “You will need to do more than that to satisfy the spell around you.”

“W-whatever trick you have planned, I _will_ beat it!” Annette’s voice was a low growl as she bent down to take another sip from the chalice. Her wrist now came free, and she was able to gain a few more inches before she was stopped once more. After a moment’s hesitation, she finished the first half of the concoction, shuddering at the foul sensation.

“I see that you are starting to adapt.” Annette glared at her captor, meeting Adriane’s gaze for an instant. Direct eye contact quickly proved strangely unbearable, though, and Annette lowered her head in discomfort. “But you still have much to learn, and you are still _on your feet._ ”

Annette was almost halfway through her prison now, with both an arm and a leg able to pass through the barrier. As she pressed further forwards, however, she became slowly, sickeningly aware of something horribly wrong with her body.

 _W...w-what i-is...h-happening to me…? My...m-my legs…!_ Her legs felt numb, an awful pins-and-needles sensation forcing her to sink to her knees. Despite her best efforts, Annette was unable to stand upon her suddenly-nerveless limbs. As quickly as it had arrived, her anger vanished, leaving only a rising sense of dread.

“...w-what...did y-you…?” she stammered out, trying to massage feeling back into her body with one hand. The other, to her horror, remained locked about the chalice, as if it had a mind of its own. Adriane’s chilling laugh told her all that she needed to know.

“ _I_ did not do anything. _You_ chose to drink from the chalice...and _you_ will have to choose to finish it.” Annette made a strangled sound, simultaneously needing to know more and yet desperate to avoid the truth. “My blood will serve you well, Annette...so long as _you_ serve _me._ ”

Annette froze in horror, the pieces falling into place. Now that she knew what to look for, it was simple enough for her to feel the new, foreign magic that now coursed through her veins. In turn, Annette recalled Adriane’s earlier order– and the contradiction between her sudden swell of energy and inability to stand was resolved.

 _I...n-no w-way…_ The world was slowing to a crawl around her, and both sight and sound faded away. Annette found herself consumed by her thoughts, and the awful conclusion she had reached. _H-her Crest...h-her b-blood...are now...n-now part of me…? And yet...and y-yet…_

“I do not believe you have finished, Annette.” Adriane’s chiding pierced through her dazed mind, dragging the girl’s attention back to the accursed vessel. Through blurry eyes rapidly filling with tears, she could make out the telltale mint color taunting her. “Your newfound strength will not last forever. You had best complete your _escape_ while you still can.”

The verbal barb stung as badly as any switch or crop. An intense feeling of crushing humiliation and despair washed over Annette, whose world had shrunk to nothing more than three things: Adriane, the magical circle, and the chalice of nightmares.

 _H-how did...t-this happen?_ Dazed as she was, Annette was certain that her life had fallen to pieces in the span of mere hours; the complete unfairness of it all was beyond comprehension. _C-can I...r-reverse this? I k-know t-there was research into this, but…_ The futility of this line of thought was all too obvious. To the best of her knowledge, even the most advanced scholars had only just barely grasped the basics of how blood and Crests were linked.

Adriane had not said a word since her earlier warning, instead opting to settle into a slightly more comfortable waiting stance. The motion made two things abundantly clear: her captor did not care immensely about appearances, and more pertinently, she was content to let Annette’s struggle play out to the very end.

The passage of time was difficult to mark indoors, with no windows or sound to help gauge its flow. Even counting beneath her breath was hopeless; her exhausted and frayed mind struggled to maintain the concentration necessary to count even to ten. With every moment, her vision grew dimmer, and her hearing filled with a toneless, featureless buzz.

 _Does...d-does it even m-matter anymore…?_ To say that Annette valued her independence was beyond an understatement. But try as she might, Annette could see no other alternative to her situation other than death. _And...a-and I’ve already...a-already t-taken some...so...s-so…_

She distantly wondered how many tears she had shed in just the last few seconds, minutes, hours. _More than...w-what’s left in...in there…_ The chalice now consumed her thoughts, visions of it hazily swimming behind her eyes even when she closed them to blink away tears. _I...h-have no...c-choice…_

Unlike her the rest of her shaking body, her arm was perfectly steady when she began to lift the chalice to her lips. _I...I’m not d-doing this willingly...she’s...she’s the reason why I’m d-taking this…!_

That was a lie. She knew it– and she could see that Adriane knew it as well. The woman’s face was almost hungry as she took in Annette’s distress and humiliation. However reluctantly, it was Annette who made the final choice to drink, choking back tears as the liquid slid down her throat.

With the chalice emptied, the barrier around the magical circle faded into nothingness. And while the holy blood had filled her body with renewed strength, her limbs felt as heavy as lead when she tried to stand. It was a hopeless motion, but Annette’s pride demanded that she at least make the attempt. Anything to avoid the inevitable moment that both captor and victim knew was coming.

Slowly, on her hands and knees, Annette crawled forwards. If she even tried to lift her arms or legs an inch above what was needed, a great weight seemed to bear down on her from all sides, forcing her into compliance. Her head hung low, her gaze fixed on the flagstones by her face. Despite their closeness, all details were lost in a veil of tears.

She did not even realize she had cleared the boundary until she saw Adriane’s boots enter her vision. At that sight, her mind finally gave up, and darkness rushed into her consciousness from all sides.

As quickly as she faded, though, she was unable to avoid hearing Adriane’s gloating words slip in just ahead of the blackness.

“Time to begin, little Annette.”


End file.
